Der blonde Affe

29.10.2016 – 14.01.2017

He holds his treasured people in a golden crown of hair

We a royal turban a sign of his desire

A garden of justice is his greatest need it rises above his greatest joy

Singing through the gate of the field of holy apples

A new table we prepare for her sheds light upon us

Between the right and the left she approaches in jewels and festive garments

Embracing in her foundation giving pleasure squeezing out his strength

Torment and trouble are ended

Now there are joyful faces spirits and souls

He gives her great joy twofold in measure

Light shines upon her streams of blessing

Go forth and prepare the adornments

Foods and all manner of fish

Beget souls and new lives on the thirty-two paths and three branches

She has seventy crowns with all may be beaten

All the words are engraved and concealed within her

From these days all shine forth

May his will dwell among the people who take joy with sweets and honey

In the south set a hidden candelabrum to make room in the north for a table of bread

Let her be adorned with six loaves connected on each side with shelter

Weakened cast out the menacing in fetters

His garment bright and red